Cormac despatched an opponent, then leapt to the parapet and sprinted along the wall above the shadow-horde a hundred feet below. A defender slashed at him but he hurdled the blade, landing awkwardly and swaying out over the edge. Recovering his balance he ran on, clambering up the outside wall of the gate tower and over the top to a second battlement. There were two warriors stationed there, both with bows. Cormac dived to one side as an arrow hissed by him. Dropping their bows, the archers drew short, curved swords and together they rushed him. He parried the first lunge, his blade cleaving through the man's neck, but the second man lashed out with his foot, spilling Cormac to the stone floor. His sword spun from his hand. Desperately he struggled to rise, but a curved sword touched his neck.

'Are you ready for death?' the man whispered.

A knife appeared in the warrior's throat and he vanished from sight as Gilgamesh leapt lightly down to join Cormac. 'Fool!' hissed Gilgamesh.

Cormac gathered his sword and looked around him. A stairwell led down to the gateway and he moved on to it and began the descent. Below the battlement was a room, and - as Maedhlyn had said - it was filled with interlocking wheels and levers. Three men sat by the mechanism. Gilgamesh touched Cormac's shoulder and moved silently ahead. The men saw him, dragged their swords free ... . . . and died.

'You are very skilled,' said Cormac.

'Just what I needed,' responded Gilgamesh. 'Praise from a peasant! How does this mechanism operate?'

Cormac gazed at the interlocking wheels, seeking the obvious - and finding it. 'I would say it was this,' he said, pointing to the dark handle that jutted from the smallest wheel.

Gripping it with both hands, he began to turn it from right to left.

'How do you know that is the right way?' asked Gilgamesh.

'It does not move the other way,' said Cormac, smiling. 'Does that not tell you something?'

Gilgamesh grunted and ran to a second door. 'As soon as they see the fangs begin to rise, they will gather here more swiftly than flies on a wound.'

Even as he spoke, the pounding of feet could be heard upon the stairs. Cormac turned the handle as swiftly as he could, his muscles bunching and straining. The door burst open and several men rushed in; Gilgamesh despatched them swiftly, but others forced him back.

At last Cormac reached the point where the wheel would turn no more, and picking up a fallen sword, he rammed it into the mechanism and jammed it between the spokes of two larger wheels. Then he ran to aid the beleaguered Gilgamesh and together they halted the advance.

From below them came the clash of sword on sword. The Loyals fought desperately now, sensing their doom was close. Shadow-beasts appeared behind them on the stairs and the battle was ended.

Cormac pushed past the creatures and forced his way down to the Gateway tunnel. Inside the walls all was chaos. He saw Goroien battling desperately against three warriors and raced to her side, his sword crushing the skull of the man to her left. Spinning on her heel, Goroien plunged one blade into an attacker's belly while blocking a slashing blow from the second man. Cormac killed him with a disembowelling thrust.

Everywhere the Loyals were falling back. Victo-rinus and the eight surviving Britons ran to join Cormac.

'The King!' said Victorinus. 'We must find him.'

Cormac had thoughts only for Anduine, but he nodded and the group forced their way into the central tower, finding themselves in a long hall. Men and women fled past them, desperate to find places to hide. One of them ran to Cormac, grabbing his arm. He shook himself free but then recognised Rhiannon.

'What are you doing here?' he asked, pulling her clear of the melee. The Britons gathered around them both in a sword circle.

'Wotan sent me here,' she sobbed. 'Please help me!'

'Have you seen Anduine?'

'No. One of the guards said Wotan has taken her back to the world.'

'Back? I do not understand.'

'It is a promise he makes to his Loyals. He has a way of returning them to life.'

Cormac's heart sank and a terrible rage began to grow. What more must he do? He had come beyond the borders of death, only to find that fate had tricked him even here.

'The King!' Victorinus urged him.

'Lead us to the dungeons!' Cormac ordered Rhiannon and the blonde girl nodded and set off across the hall to a wide stairwell. They followed her down into a narrow torch-lit, shadow-haunted tunnel.

Suddenly a taloned hand flashed out, encircling Rhiannon's neck. There was a hideous snap and the girl disappeared. Cormac hurled himself forward and a beast with the head of a wolf stepped into view, roaring with rage. Cormac rammed his sword deep into its belly and it faded from sight.

Dungeon doors stood open through the length of the tunnel, except one at the very end.

Cormac lifted the locking bar and pulled open the door. Within was a shocking sight: a man covered in rats that tore at his flesh. Raising his sword, Cormac severed the chains of fire that bound him; the body fell and the rats fled as the Britons came forward. The flesh of the man's body healed instantly, but his eyes were vacant and saliva drooled from the slack jaw.

'His mind has gone,' said Cormac.

'Who could blame it?' hissed Victorinus as with great gentleness they lifted the man to his feet.

'Don't know,' said Uther. 'Don't know.'

'You are with friends, sire,' whispered Victorinus. 'With friends.'

'Don't know.'

Slowly they led him from the tunnel and up into the throne hall, where Goroien now sat with Gilga-mesh standing alongside her. The hall was thronged with shadow-beasts, who parted to make way for the small group of Britons and the naked man at their midst.

Goroien rose from the throne and walked slowly to stand before Uther, gazing into the empty eyes.

"There was a time when I would have been happy to see him this way,' she said, 'but not now. He was a mighty man and a fine enemy. When I was a child, my father used to say "May the G.o.ds give us strong enemies. For they alone will keep us powerful." Uther was the strongest of enemies.' She turned to Cormac, seeing the pain in his eyes. 'And what of your lady?'

'Wotan . . . Molech ... has taken her back to the world with him.'

'Then you must return there, Cormac.'

He laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. He spread his hands. 'And how shall I do that?' She looked down and her eyes widened.

'However you do it, it must be done swiftly,' she said, pointing to his right hand. A dark shadow nestled there, round and semi-transparent.

'What is it?' he asked.

'It is the black coin, and once it is solid there will be no return.'

Maedhlyn waited within Molech's private chambers with a slender dagger in his hand. A light flared over the silver-crowned skull and a man's shape formed in the air. As it became solid Maedhlyn stepped behind it, his dagger plunging towards the back. With astonishing speed the man whirled, his powerful hand closing on Maedhlyn's wrist.

'Almost, Maedhlyn,' hissed Wotan, twisting the dagger from his grasp and pushing the white-bearded Enchanter from him. Wotan moved to the doorway and stood in the corridor; then stepping back, he shut the door.

'So,' he said, 'one empire falls. Well done, Lord Enchanter!'

'Kill me!' pleaded Maedhlyn. 'I can stand this no longer.'

Wotan laughed. 'Give it time. You sent me here two thousand years ago and now it is your turn to enjoy the unimaginable wonders of the Void: food with no flavour, women but no love, wine but no joy. And if you become so weary, you can always end your own life.'

Take me back. I will serve you.'

'You have promised that already. You said that the boy, Cormac, might know the whereabouts of the Sword. But he did not.'

'I could still find it. They have rescued the King and he trusts me.'

'You will not find much left of your King, unless I misjudge the many talents of the companions I left with him.'

'Please, Molech . . .'

'Goodbye, Maedhlyn. I will pa.s.s on your kind regards to Pendarric.'

Wotan shimmered and was gone. Maedhlyn stood for a while staring at the silver-ringed skull, then lifted it and made his way to the hall.

He knelt before Goroien. 'Here, my Queen, is a gift worth more than worlds. It is the spirit- twin of the one Molech has in life. With it you can breach the world above and return yourself - and others -to the flesh.'

Goroien accepted the skull, then tossed it to Gil-gamesh. 'Destroy it!' she ordered.

'But, Mother!'

'Do it!'

'No!' screamed Maedhlyn as Gilgamesh dashed the skull to the stone floor, where it shattered into hundreds of tiny shards. The glowing silver band rolled across the floor and Maedhlyn stumbled after it, but smoke began to issue from the circle and the band vanished. The Enchanter fell to his knees. 'Why?' he shouted.

'Because it is over, Maedhlyn,' she told him. 'We had thousands of years of life, and what did we do? We set mankind on a road of madness. I do not want life. I desire no more t.i.tles. The Witch Queen is dead; she will remain so.' She moved to Gilgamesh, placing her hands upon his shoulders. 'Now is the time for goodbyes, my dear. I have decided to travel the road to see where it ends. I ask one thing more of you.'

'Anything.'

'See Cormac and the King across the Dark River.'

'I will.'

'Goodbye, Gilgamesh.'

'Farewell, Mother.' Stooping, he kissed her brow, then stepped from the throne dais and stood before Cormac. 'Say goodbye to your Mends. You are going home, peasant.'

'We will journey with you,' said Victorinus.

'No,' Cormac told him, taking his hand in the warrior's grip. 'You have your own journey ahead -may your G.o.ds accompany you.'

Victorinus bowed and walked to Maedhlyn. 'Come with us,' he said. 'Perhaps Albain was right . . . there might be a paradise.'

'No!' said Maedhlyn, backing away. 'I will return to the world. I will!' Turning, he stumbled from the hall and out into the Void.

Cormac bowed to Goroien. 'I thank you, lady. There is nothing more I can say.' She did not reply and he took the King's hand and led Uther from the hall, following the tall armoured figure of Gilgamesh.

Through the long journey Gilgamesh said nothing. His eyes were distant, his thoughts secret. Cormac's fears grew along with the coin that was now a dark and almost solid shape in his hand.

At last they reached the river and saw the barge waiting at the ruined jetty. The beast on it rose as it saw Cormac, its red eyes gleaming in dark triumph.

Gilgamesh stepped to the barge with his sword extended. The beast seemed to smile and spread its arms, offering its chest; the sword plunged home and it disappeared. Cormac helped the King to the craft, then climbed in alongside Gilgamesh.

'Why did it not fight?'

Gilgamesh removed his helm and threw it out into the water. Then he stripped himself of his armour, hurling it from him. Taking the pole, he steered the barge to the far side of the river, holding it against the sh.o.r.e.

Once more Cormac aided Uther. Ahead of them was the cave-mouth and Cormac turned.

'Will you come with us?'

Gilgamesh laughed softly. 'Come with you? The Ferryman cannot leave his craft.'

'I do not understand.'

'You will one day, peasant. There must always be a Ferryman. But we will meet again.'

Turning, he poled the craft away into the shadows.

Cormac took the King's hand and climbed to the cave. High above the light still twinkled, like a faraway camp-fire.

Slowly the two men walked towards it.

Cormac awoke to feel a gnawing pain in his back and an aching emptiness in his belly. He groaned and heard a woman's voice say, 'Praise be to G.o.d!' He was lying on something hard and tried to move, but his limbs were stiff and cramped. Above his head was a series of high rafters supporting a thatched roof. A woman's face appeared above him, an elderly woman with kind eyes who smiled.

'Lie still, young man.' He ignored the advice and forced himself to sit up. She supported his arm and rubbed at his back when he complained of pain. Beside him lay the Blood King in full armour; his red hair had grown and white showed at the roots and the temples.

'Does he live?' asked Cormac, reaching for the King's hand.

'He lives,' she told him. 'Calm yourself:'

'Calm? We have just walked from h.e.l.l, woman.' The door opposite opened and a figure in white entered. Cormac's eyes flared as he recognised her as the woman in the Cave of Sol Invictus - the mother who had left her child.

His mother.

Emotions surged over him, each battling for supremacy: anger, wonder, love, sorrow. Her face was still beautiful and there were tears in her eyes. She reached for him and he went to her, his arms pulling her to him.

'My son,' she whispered. 'My son.'

'I brought him back,' said Cormac, 'but still he sleeps.'

Gently she pulled away from his embrace, her hand rising to stroke his bearded cheek. 'We will talk in a little while. There is so much to say ... to explain.'

'You have no need to explain to me. I know what happened in the cave - and before it. I am sorry your life has brought you such pain.'

'Life brings us nothing,' she told him. 'Ultimately we choose our paths, and when they fail the blame rests with us. And yet I have regrets, such terrible regrets. I did not see you grow, we did not share the wonders.'

He smiled. 'Yet still I saw them.'

Uther moaned softly and Laitha turned to him, but Cormac's hand took her arm. 'There is something you should know,' he said. 'His mind has departed; they tortured him in ways I shall not speak of.'

Laitha moved to the King's side as his eyes opened. Tears welled and ran back into his hair.